


Can't Get Her Out of My head

by Zillidan



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bathtubs, Dark Iron Dwarf, Masturbation, Other, Sex Toys, Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zillidan/pseuds/Zillidan
Summary: After hastily returning home following an encounter with a Mag'har Orc, Yorla seeks to put the past behind her. Little does she know that the memory of this encounter with Rasada would affect her in more ways than one.





	Can't Get Her Out of My head

There was a satisfying feeling of relief that washed over Yorla as she closed the door to her home. The anxiety had built as she approached, a thousand things in her mind about how she would confront Angronar were put on hold as the home was thankfully empty. She stood in the front entrance, the gentle sound of wind blowing through cracks, letting herself calm down before her metal boots clacked against the stone floor. She placed her hammer in the kindling left in the fireplace, watching the hearth roar to life, before resting her hammer next to it. Crouching down, she looked into the licking flames, feeling her still sweat covered and cum covered form press uncomfortably inside of her armour. The smell, coming from herself, and her face, still wafted up her form and she did a poor job of ignoring it. Only half an hour earlier she was in this same position, reporting the sub-par mission success to her superior. She had to keep her distance, praying that the commander didn’t smell the same thing she was overwhelmed in, trying to get away to wash this shame from her body. That’s what it was right? Shame? Only a few hours earlier she was duelling this Orc at the bottom of a cave, beaten within an inch of her life and dealing the same back. Minutes later her senses were overwhelmed by the Orc’s leaking flower and a few more had her gripping the raven-haired locks of Rasada and forcing her to reciprocate. It felt like a dream, something that shouldn’t have happened, and something she was glad she was able to get away from without doing something stupid.

She rose to her feet slowly, shaking her head as she loosened her braid. It was done, gone, never to come back. Her lover would be home soon and she was not about to greet him smelling like this. She began the process of filling the small basins with water and placing them in the fireplace to warm. Moving into her bedroom she pulled the armour from her body, carefully inspecting each piece and grimacing as each one looked dirtier than the last. Mentally preparing for the work she had to do tomorrow, she hung up each piece on its own stand. She tore the soaked loincloth from her form and discarded them off into the corner, to deal with later, despite wanting to burn them right then and there to hide her shame. One by one, she slowly filled up the large tub they had in their bathroom and climbed inside. 

Sinking down to her neck, she groaned in pleasure at how the boiling water scorched her form, soothing her muscles. To most beings, this would be scalding and unbearable, but to a fiery Dark Iron like her, it was absolutely perfect. Just lying there, she let her mind draw blank and just experienced those few moments of silence, nobody on her mind, before she reached for the oils and soaps she had on the shelf. Selecting her favourite scent, she poured out a liberal amount and began to scrub away the salty sweaty and sticky cum from today’s outing. She ran her hands along herself, her mind focusing on her lover.  
It had been months since they last spoke, and even longer since they made love, and Yorla had barely forgotten his touch, his scent, and his voice. She remembered the night before he had left on an assignment to assist against the Burning Legion. They had gone out that night, walking around Shadowforge City after a meal they had cooked together. As her mind drifted, so did her fingers, finding her dark lips underneath the water and running her finger through her slit and around the lips as she enjoyed. She remembered when they returned home, how they were nice and cozy near the fire. How they turned and found each other’s gaze, lips pressed together, rolling over on the couch as she pulled her nice shirt from her body. Her hand started pressing into her crotch as the free hand reached into a small box on the shelf. A smooth, iron casted toy was pulled free and plunged under the water. She was thinking about how his beard pressed into her legs, how he ate her out, how he climbed on her and pushed himself deep into her. Yorla kept fucking herself more and more as she remembered how hard he came into her. 

However, the memory had faded and she was still thrusting away at herself. The sensation had gone, and she was frustrated. Pulling the toy out of the water she yelled and threw it across the room, the instrument clanking off of the wall and rolling on the stone floor. Her crotch ached at the tease, remembering how he looked at her after, and how she looked at him. They both had a release, but that was it. He left after and was gone, for months. The bond they had was gone. She growled and dunked her head under the water, scrubbing away at her hair as suddenly the image in her mind of Angronar was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a tall woman. Chiselled, brown-skinned, a tattoo draped across her perfect chest, her touch biceps, and peaking into her washboard abs. Her raven hair cascaded off of her head, masked with a perfect, cute, womanly face contrasting her hard body. Soon the image flashed in her head of their encounter when she ate her out when she did the same. The dull pain in her loins re-fired as she rose out of the water. “No!” she thought to herself, squirming and squeezing her hand as she fought the urge to touch herself. Now the memory progressed past this. She had left with Rasada, the two were now in a house somewhere. She imagined herself curled in her form, pressing her head into her bust as the Orc woman caressed her head in front of a fire. In was calm, peaceful. Her hand couldn’t hold on as it reached down and found her burning clit. At the first touch, her body convulsed as the memory wouldn’t leave her. She looked up and saw Rasada smiling down to her, leaning in to kiss. As their lips met, Yorla cried out, her body spasming and leaking all inside the tub. She felt herself squeeze five times, ten times, before calming finally.  
She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes. Did she not love him anymore? Did she love this Orc now? The Orc felt good, but it was so wrong. She didn’t feel much for her lover anymore, yet it was the man she had loved for so long. Why did she do this to her and not him? “Perhaps fondness makes the heart grow fonder…” she thought to herself as she stepped out and dried herself off. She would need to dry off, change, and rebraid her hair before he returned. Perhaps smelling good and time apart would rekindle the romance lost. She had to push this Orc from her mind before it consumed her completely. Returning to her room, she sat on the bed, wondering if the Orc really had looked at her libram. Perhaps even if she was getting back with her lover, she would need to seek her, and get that back. She would need it to be a good Paladin after all…


End file.
